


Liminal Rites (A Deep Dive Remix)

by nomical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, F/F, Femslash, Magical Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Remix, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomical/pseuds/nomical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say there’s a woman in the water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liminal Rites (A Deep Dive Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostlenore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlenore/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Will Wade Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248671) by [lostlenore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlenore/pseuds/lostlenore). 



> Written for the 2015 [Camelot Remix](http://camelotremix.livejournal.com/). Thank you to the mods for organizing this fest and to my wonderful beta W. Most importantly, thank you to [lostlenore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlenore/pseuds/lostlenore) for writing the amazing original and letting me play around in your beautiful universe. I hope I've done you proud.

They say there’s a woman in the water.

It’s an ill-omened journey says another. A third scoffs at the antiquated notion that having a woman on board the ship is bad luck. Another asks if she’s going to have to bathe with the rest of him. The echoing bawdy replies make their way on the breeze to Vivian’s tiny cabin. When a sailor speculates how loud she’ll scream for him, she pulls the shutters closed and curls up on her bed.

***

She prefers the ship at night. When there’s fewer men up on deck, Vivian walks the boards bathed in moonlight. With the soft wood under her bare feet she can almost forget her sorrows. Her mother joining her father in the grounds of their ancestors. Saying goodbye to her childhood home. The tears in her old maid’s eyes as the carriage pulled away. Her brother’s sharp tongue and public mask of calm. Leaving her native country to marry a man she’s never met.

She comes to a sudden halt as a splinter makes its mark in the soft flesh of her heel. She digs it out the best she can and flicks the broken peg into the water below. As she leans over the rail to watch its descent she finds herself looking down into a set of wide brown eyes.

It’s a woman, fair of complexion and the face of one not much older than herself. From what little of the dress she can see, Vivian deduces it’s an older style, one that hasn’t been in fashion for a good while. But however strange it might be to see a woman floating in the middle of the ocean, Vivian was raised with manners, and the startled look on the woman’s face could surely be eased with a few kind words.

“Hello, I’m Vivian. Would you like to come on board?”

The woman turns and dives in one graceful motion. Vivian sighs and rubs at her heel before resuming her pacing.

***

They say there’s a woman in the water.

“I know,” says Vivian brightly, “I met her last night.”

The sailors turn and look at her as one. The cabin boy’s jaw drops faster than the apple he’s holding, though the latter makes an audibly louder clunk.

“You met her?” one ventures to ask.

“Yes, though she did not stay much past introductions. Or rather, much past my introduction,” Vivian frowns.

“You musn’t talk to her missus,” says a young man with wide eyes, “or she’ll take you to her lair.” A murmur of voices starts with a low hum of agreement.

“I beg pardon?”

“Her very purpose is the hunt,” another chimes in. “She lures men to jump overboard with her song and then feasts on their bones as they drown.”

“She’s hardly dangerous,” Vivian scoffs. “She isn’t some mermaid or siren from one of your far-fetched tales. She’s as woman as I am and-”

“Vivian? What in god’s name are you doing down here?” Ralph’s voice cuts across the buzzing crowd like a knife.

“I was simply taking a turn around the ship,” Vivian says calmly.

“Come above deck at once, I require your presence so we may discuss the particulars of your betrothal more keenly,” Ralph’s voice is honeysweet but years of experience has taught Vivian to never trust her brother’s tones.

As she passes him, he grabs her elbow with the pretence of helping her up the stairs.

“It is unseemly for you to be below deck without a chaperone,” he hisses in her ear, “I will not have rumours reaching Mr. Pendragon that you are somehow tarnished or unfit for marrying.”

Vivian spends the rest of the day in Ralph’s cabin, hearing all about how fine Mr. Pendragon is. She nearly breaks the handle off her teacup from holding it so tightly.

***

That night, Vivian takes to the boards again. Back and forth. To and fro. Up and down. Left and right. She sends occasional glances out across the ocean, but the waters remain still well into the night. She’s about to give up hope when a slight ripple draws her eye to the port stern; a point well hidden from the midnight watchman.

“Hello,” Vivian whispers, leaning against the soft patina of the rail, “I was beginning to wonder if I should ever see you again.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman smiles with some reluctance, “I’m not accustomed to people spotting me and you gave me a fright.”

“Then I am sorry in turn, it was far from my intentions,” Vivian ducks her head in a partial bow.

“It is forgotten.” The woman smiles in full and it illuminates her face far better than the moonlight ever could.

“What’s your name?” asks Vivian boldly.

“Freya.”

“Do you have any interest in luring men?”

Freya’s nose wrinkles. “What use would I have for a man? They are tiresome creatures and I should think I’m better off without one.”

“The men say there’s a woman in the water. They say you want to drown and eat them,” Vivian giggle at the absurdity of the statement even as it falls from her lips.

Freya’s laughter twines with hers in a melodic cadence that reminds Vivian of flying kites with her mother as a girl.

“I can assure you I have no interest in men nor in eating them,” Freya laughs.

“Well that is good, I should hate to make an enemy of you,” Vivian sighs. “It’s awfully dull on this ship with no one to talk to.”

“What of the man I saw with you today? The one in fine clothes that eats too many cakes?”

All at once the urge to pace is back. “That is my brother Ralph,” says Vivian slowly. “He’s not the company sort of fellow.”

“Say no more,” says Freya with far too much understanding for one so young. “In the absence of any real company, I shall come back and visit with you in the nights. It’s a poor substitution for proper socialization but I’ll come…if you’ll have me,” Freya finishes almost shyly.

“That would be delightful,” says Vivian in earnest. “I could not wish for a better companion.”

They talk long into the night and Vivian finds she hardly feels the urge to pace at all.

***

The nights rapidly become Vivian’s favourite part of the voyage. The men are still coarse and her brother is still cruel, but Vivian finds she can bear it much heartier after a night spent with Freya.

Freya is a kind and patient listener. Freya never interrupts or calls her foolish, despite the many foolish words that come out of Vivian’s mouth. She seems perfectly content to float lazily in the water and converse about all manner of subjects. She takes a keen interest in what Vivian tells her about the latest styles in both fashion and literature. In return, she shares what she has heard from the dozens of voyages she has accompanied.

If her brother notices a change in Vivian’s mood, he does not mention it. In private he chides her for the dark circles that have grown under her eyes and her lack of attention when he’s speaking to her. All his sharp words do is push Vivian to stay out even later each night, pacing until Freya’s sweet tones bring her some level of peace.

***

Despite her brother’s warnings about venturing below deck, there comes a day when Vivian misses breakfast and sets out with the intention of finding an apple or something else sweet to eat. Cook is kind and takes pity on her, setting her a bowl of porridge with a little sugar.

“You’ll need to put on some weight if you’re to bear children my poor little waif,” he croons. Vivian does her best to keep her breakfast in her stomach.

“I can give you something to eat more filling than that slop ducky,” says a sailor wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’ll thank you sir to keep your comments to yourself,” says Vivian haughtily.

The man wipes his nose and leers at her.

“Now now princess, this might be the only opportunity like this you get, if the rumours about your husband to be are true.”

Despite herself, Vivian is curious to find out more about her betrothed from a source other than her brother. She schools her face into a look of proud contempt before replying.

“And what rumours might those be?”

“That he has a particular list of interests that you’ll never be on.” His meaning is unclear to Vivian but the others around her laugh in a manner that tells her it’s nothing good.

“And what would you know of Mr. Pendragon? You a sailor and he a gentleman? I hardly think you know anything of his character,” Vivian scoffs.

“Aye, that may be. But my brother does the trade routes that supply his estate, and he’s got to talking with a few of Pendragon’s staff. Apparently he’s a kind enough master. Perhaps too kind. They say he’s very generous with his manservant.” The sailor licks his lips and Vivian his meaning is revealed.

She’s up and rushing for the ladder before the laughter even starts.

***

She’s sitting in Ralph’s cabin, for once seeking the solace of a gentleman with some modicum of class. It’s far too early for Freya to appear and she doesn’t know how much longer she can stand being on this damnable ship. So she sits, dutifully practicing her horrible needlecraft and listening to Ralph waffle on about the contents of his paper for the tenth time. She’s just about lulled herself into a stupor when she’s snapped back to reality.

“While I would never begrudge you being here, may I ask what has brought you to my cabin voluntarily?” Ralph asks suddenly. “It is usually I who goes seeking you.”

“I heard some talk of rumours that upset me.” Vivian stabs at the fabric and ruins a perfectly good stitch.

“Pish Vivvie, pay no attention to rumours, they’ll fill your head with nonsense and that is the very last thing any man wants in his wife,” Ralph gives his paper a shake and raises it once more.

“It is of my husband that they spoke,” Vivian mutters without thinking. She looks quickly to Ralph, afraid that she has spoken out of turn again. To her great surprise, there are patches of colour on Ralph’s cheeks.

“Yes well, I’ve heard tell that the man’s taste run somewhat queer,” he shifts uncomfortably. “But that’s no reason not to marry him. The man pulls five thousand a year!”

“So it’s true then!” Vivian loses all sense of herself and bangs a palm on the table. The jelly quivers in its pot but it’s nothing compared to the way Vivian is shaking all over. “You’re marrying me off to some foppish molly just to fill your pockets!”

“Now see here,” Ralph starts, clenching the paper hard enough to tear, “I am doing this with your best interests at heart. I can make money well enough of my own but it’s you that needs looking after. It’s not natural for a sister to rely on her brother for so long. Mr. Pendragon will make a fine match and I’ll not hear another word spoken against his character.” Ralph smooth’s out the edges of his ruined paper.

The conversation clearly over, Vivian rises, not caring if she knocks the biscuits to the floor as she does. She has her hand on the dull brass knob of the door when Ralph speaks again.

“And it might be wise for you to work on controlling your mouth,” he says shrewdly. “Mr. Pendragon may not take an interest in you but if you were my wife, I’d box you for such a display of insolence.”

Vivian runs from the room as fast as her skirts will permit.

***

She’s pacing faster than ever before. Pounding the planks and not caring for splinters. None of the men come to stop her. Not to check if she’s alright, not even to yell at her.

Freya comes though. Comes as she always comes. Her head crowns the water with urgency and she frowns up at Vivian, her eyes dark and mouth crumpled in concern.

“Vivian? Whatever is the matter?”

Parents dead. House sold. Maid crying.

“Vivian?”

Pacing, rushing, racing.

“Have you taken ill?”

Sharp tongue, no home, strange man.

“Please, speak to me!”

Bawdy sailors, pressure building, overwhelming, can’t escape it, feels like drowning.

“Vivian?” Freya’s tone is sharp. “What are you doing?”

Running, leaping, falling.

Freya screams and but Vivian only hears it for a moment before the icy water silences everything. The black velvet current wraps around her like a mantle she was always meant to wear. It’s blissfully peaceful until Freya swims into focus. She’s yelling something fierce though Vivian is beyond hearing it. And are those tears in her eyes? How can one cry underwater?

Though she can’t hear the words, it just won’t do to see Freya so upset. Poor Freya who has been nothing but kind and a true friend. To still her mouth from shaping those angry syllables, Vivian leans forward and presses their lips together.

Freya stills instantly. Undaunted, Vivian continues to press soft, kisses to Freya’s mouth, letting them say what she cannot. Thank you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Some of her sentiment must get through, for Freya opens her mouth in a gasp and return’s Vivian’s kisses with fever.

Vivian’s drowning in the soft supple flesh of Freya’s lips – or is she? No, it’s not quite drowning: it’s breathing. With that realisation, she pulls water deep into her lungs and takes her first free breath in the murky deluge.

They say there’s a woman in the water.

Freya’s hands tangle in Vivian’s taught curls and pull them free from the confines of their pins. They float loose and fan out behind her like a sail rippling in the breeze. Vivian’s feet finally still and in one beautiful moment she discovers you can’t pace underwater.

They say there’s a woman in the water.

Freya’s clever fingers work pull apart Vivian’s bodice faster than any lady’s maid ever could. She smiles up at Vivian and rubs her thumb across one pert nipple. Vivian shakes so violently she feels as though she’s coming apart. When Freya trades thumb for tongue and takes a long lick, everything suddenly makes sense.

They say there’s a woman in the water.

If Freya’s fingers are clever, her tongue must be a genius, flicking back and forth between Vivian’s legs, making her far wetter than water alone ever could. Breasts exposed, skirts bunched high on her thighs, Vivian is exposed and wanton and has never felt more alive. Freya holds her hips, gentle but firm, as they’re rocked by the rough undercurrents of the sea. Vivian runs a hand through Freya’s wild mane and wonders if she can keep her forever. Then Freya’s tongue dips deeper inside and Vivian stops thinking about anything at all.

They say there’s a woman in the water.

They say there’s a woman.

They say.

They say there are women in the water.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Arnold van Gennep's 1909 _Rites de Passage_ which outlines liminality as a period of dissociation during a ritual where the participant no longer retains their pre-ritual status, nor have they begun the transition to their final form. Eg. dating as the pre, engagement as the liminal space, wedding as the threshold, marriage as the post. The liminal rites phase involves “the creation of a tabula rasa, through the removal of previously taken-for-granted forms and limits”. Two characteristics are essential to these rites. First, the rite “must follow a strictly prescribed sequence, where everybody knows what to do and how”. Second, everything must be done “under the authority of a master of ceremonies”. The destructive nature of this rite allows for considerable changes to be made to the identity of the initiand. This middle stage (when the transition takes place) “implies an actual passing through the threshold that marks the boundary between two phases, and the term ‘liminality’ was introduced in order to characterize this passage. Check out the [wikipedia entry](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liminality) for a far clearer explanation than what my poor post-MA brain can give you.


End file.
